With all of the concern over Brexit, I thought I’d say a few words about our jolly old friends in England. When I say England, I’m usually referring to all of the United Kingdom. Well, except maybe the Welsh, because even the Brits can’t understand those people when they speak. Some Scots are the same, but they’re usually so well lubricated that they’re not really a problem unless you challenge them to a game of rugby. If you do, count on some broken bones and uncountable wee drams at the pub.
We weren’t always friends with the Brits. We had a little incident with them back in 1776, as you may recall. At the time, we simply opened up a can of Whup-Ass on them and sent them home to mommy. We thought they had learned their lesson, but nope, they hadn’t.
A few years later (1812–1815, to be precise), they tried to mess with us again. They even had the balls to burn down Washington, DC. Of course, right after they did that, they scrammed home because they knew we’d be pissed, and we were. Good thing they booked on out of here or we might have put a serious hurt on them.
Anyway, except for those two little incidents, we’ve pretty much been fast friends ever since. It’s sort of like brothers. England is the big brother and we’re the little brother. The big brother punches, kicks, makes fun of, pokes and prods the younger brother because that’s what big brothers do. Eventually the little brother grows up, and when the big brother starts that crap again, the little brother lays him out! When that happens, there are only two possible results: Either they go their separate ways and never speak again, or they become lifelong friends as only brothers can be.
America and England are brothers and friends, and every guy knows exactly what that means. You always back up your friend even if he’s wrong. You might say something privately to him and call him out for the a**hole he is, but as far as the world is concerned, you are inseparable.
When we went into Iraq, I’m not sure Britain wanted to join us. But Tony Blair understood what friends are and so they came with us. Same thing with Afghanistan. We didn’t help when the Brits went into the Falklands, but only because we knew Britain could take those sheep farmers with only one ship and a guy yelling over a bullhorn, “Give it up, you bloody wankers!” Same thing with Grenada; Regan didn’t need British help to take Grenada. Hell, give me a halfway decent motorcycle gang and I’ll take the whole island in a day and a half.
So we’ve seen that, whenever there’s a fight, England and America can count on each other. Problem is, this fight—Brexit—is about money. And when it comes to money, it’s every nation for itself. I’m curious to see what America will do, if anything, if the British pound starts to tank. Will we go in and help prop up their currency? I doubt it. Fighting and bullets are one thing, but now we’re talking about real stuff—money.
If Brexit is the start of Britain becoming more isolationist, then Trump represents the equivalent phenomenon in America. I’m not sure Trump knows any more than his political ally, Sarah Palin (who, as far as I know, is still keeping an eye on the Russians for us from her front porch). She seems to think that Britain leaving the EU should encourage America to leave the UN. Where do we find these people? And more important, how do we get them back into their holes?
I do know one thing, however. No matter what happens, America and Britain will always be friends and allies even if they do look down their noses at us.